by Amy Sparling
I smile. “Look at you. All fancy and homeowner-like. You’re talking like…oh I don’t know, a thirty-year-old.”
He gives me his sideways smile and motions for me to come closer. I walk up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and stepping in the space between his legs while he sits on the tall barstool. We kiss and then he lets his forehead touch mine for a moment. “I love you,” he says, his breath warm on my lips.
“I love you,” I say back. My fingers hold on tightly to the back of his neck. I need him close. I need him with me. I miss him so much when he’s gone that sometimes I miss him when he’s right here.
“I could use some help picking out appliances and stuff,” he says a moment later. I stand up straight, keeping my arms around his neck. He slides his hands into the tiny back pockets of my Captain America booty shorts and now it’s hard to concentrate on anything but the feel of his hands on me.
“Hmm,” I say, trying to concentrate despite his distractions. “I guess I could be convinced to go appliance shopping with you. But you’ll have to buy me ice cream or something because shopping for appliances is bor-ring,” I say, singing the last word.
“All it takes is ice cream? Psh. Easy.”
I roll my eyes at him and he pulls me in, snuggling his face against my neck and kissing me repeatedly until I squeal and pull away. “Have I told you that you look hot as hell in this costume?” he asks.
“I don’t think you have,” I say. He slides his hands to my hips and tightens his grip. When his eyes trail down the length of my costume, I don’t get the creepy-crawly gross feeling like I did when Mark did the same thing. That’s because Park is allowed to ogle me. I love when he thinks I look cute.
“Well, you look crazy hot.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I should have knocked out that asshole who couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
“I know, but I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t need you in jail on Halloween,” I say. Earlier tonight, Park had shoved Mark against the wall, blocking Mark’s airflow by pressing his forearm into his neck. After some colorfully threatening words, Park had led him go, but not after telling him he has eyes all over this town and that he better not hear of Mark talking to me again.
I have to admit, it is kind of hot seeing a guy get told off by your boyfriend. But the look Park got on his face when he recalled the incident told me he didn’t think it was funny, or hot.
He shows me the guest bedroom and office downstairs and then we head upstairs and check out the other two bedrooms and the master bedroom. This house could easily fit a family of six and yet, Park is just one person.
“Why’d you get a house so big?” I ask once we’re finished looking at the massive closet in the master bedroom.
He shrugs. “I liked the location of this house much better than the smaller ones that are for sale. I did look at some condos in town and at a new neighborhood near C&C. But I can’t stand that cookie cutter, homeowner’s association crap in those neighborhoods. Plus, your neighbors would hear everything you say since those houses are so close together.”
“True,” I say. “This place is just so…big.”
“Well I’ll have a family one day to fill it all up.”
The next few moments of silence are filled with heavy thoughts from both of us. I break the awkwardness by saying, “Oh, really? How are you going to pull that off?”
He shrugs and takes my hand as he walks me down the hallway and to a narrow staircase just off the main stairs. “Guess I’ll have to find a girl, fall in love with her, and then convince her to marry me.”
“Sounds like a good plan…” I say, feeling all wobbly and tingly in my toes. He squeezes my hand. “Looks like I’ve already accomplished the first two things.”
My body flushes from head to toe. Thankfully, this hallway is dim thanks to a broken light fixture in the ceiling. He shows me the storage closets and built-in nooks, and takes me up the narrow staircase to the studio room at the top of the house, but as we walk around, I don’t really focus on anything he shows me.
I’m too busy thinking about what he just said. What he implied. Does Park want to marry me? Could I really get this lucky? Is he thinking about proposing? Has he bought a ring? Or is he just suggesting generic ideas for the future? I’m not sure it’s possible for me to get as lucky as Bayleigh did with Jace.
I’m sure he was just talking, just making up hypothetical ideas of things that he might want to do some day. I shouldn’t get so worked up and let my imagination run wild.
Besides, why would he want to marry me? I’m just…me. Ugh. Just boring Becca Sosa from boring Lawson, Texas.
“Babe?” Park’s voice breaks me out of my depressing thoughts. I look up and find that we’ve reached the top of the staircase and are standing in a little foyer that leads to a closed door. “This is where the best room in the house is. Your studio, if you wanted.”
I go to step forward but he holds me back. “Sorry, we can’t go in.”
“What?” I say, frowning. “Why not?”
“Because it’s under renovation. The people who owned this house let their stupid kids draw all over the walls and make a mess of it. I can’t let you see it until it’s ready.”
“I’m sure I can imagine what it’ll look like when it’s fixed up.”
“Sorry,” he says, kissing me quickly on the lips. “It’s a surprise.”
“Fine,” I say with a relenting sigh. “I’d rather spend time with you anyways. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Back in Park’s truck, we hang out in the driveway and I slide over the bench seat until I’m pressed up against him, my knees bent and my feet in his lap. “Wanna go back to my place and make out?” I say with a goofy grin.
His hand grabs my knee and slides down my thigh. “Absolutely, I do. But you’d have to move over so I can drive and I definitely don’t want you to move.” He gives me his puppy frown and I roll my eyes.
“So what’s been up in the millions of years since I’ve seen you last? How’s work?” Park doesn’t have a job like most people do, in that he doesn’t go to an office every day. He races motocross under a professional sponsorship team with a dozen other racers. There’s usually a race every weekend during the supercross season. Park took a break from supercross this year, choosing only to race the outdoor summer season.
He shrugs and plays with my hair absentmindedly. “I love this costume on you, by the way. Have I said that yet?”
“Only like a million times.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Tell me about work. How’s the dirt bike and all that jazz?”
“Oh, it’s good,” he says quickly. “Really good. Since, well… I just quit.”
“Wait, what? How did you quit a professional contract? How do you just quit something like that?”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t hard. besides, I’d been thinking about it a long time.”
“But Park!” I have to force my mouth to close since all it wants to do is hang open. “Racing is your life. That’s what you do. You’re no one without racing. You say that all the time.”
He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. I’m no one without dirt bikes. I can live without racing. Besides, I know you’re like the most encouraging person ever, but I had to face the facts. I’m no champion racer. I’m a top ten person. I always will be.”
“Babe, you can’t be so hard on yourself,” I say, knowing that it kills him when he doesn’t finish in the top three.”
“It’s not that,” he says. “Racing is tough. I had my time in the spotlight and I loved it. But it’s time to move on with my life. Like Jace did. Find a real career and not just hold onto the hope that I’ll win enough money to retire at the age of thirty.”
“You’re only twenty-two,” I say. “You have a long time to get better at racing.”
He shakes his head again. “I don’t want to. Besides, it’s done. Apparently someone still refuses to subscribe to the motocross news, because it’s been all over the web, people
talking about my quitting.”
“Yeah well, call me crazy but I choose not to sign up for that stupid thing.” After what happened last time I looked on the motocross news websites, when I found pictures of Park with some super hot girl on his arm, I decided I’m better off in the dark about the world of professional motocross.
He runs his fingers through my hair, watching me carefully. “Becca, I did what was best for me. It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, now we get to spend more time together.”
I smile and try to swallow the lump in my throat. I should be happy, ecstatic even, that my long-distance boyfriend just quit his job and is becoming my in-town boyfriend. But quitting the world of professional motocross isn’t nearly the same thing as if I were to quit my part time gig at C&C BMX Park. In fact, it’s about a million dollar contract different.
He doesn’t say it but it doesn’t have to. I know he’s made these decisions because of me, because of us. So we could be together in a real way. It should be everything I’d ever dreamed of, but instead it feels like a nightmare.
How am I supposed to be happy that Park gave up everything for someone as boring and epically not special as me?
Chapter 3
On Monday, I’m supposed to have lunch with Bayleigh and her super adorable baby boy, Jett. But then, thanks to the hyper awareness that Monday brings a person after a weekend spent making out and picking out paint colors with your boyfriend has deluded your thoughts, I remember I have an essay due for my history class on Wednesday.
It’s kind of a major grade in a class that I’m kind of close to failing, so as I much as I don’t want to work on it, I know I should. So instead of taking a two hour lunch break from work and meeting up with her, I ditch her very politely and apologetically via text message.
Work is slow on Mondays during the school year; the only people coming in to ride are older guys who gave up on school years ago. No one really shows up in the morning at all, because those kinds of guys definitely don’t wake up at in the morning, so I know I’ll be good to study.
My phone beeps and I check it to find a pleasant surprise. My Etsy store has sold another one of my canvas paintings. Well, they’re not really paintings per say. I use a canvas and I paint a quote on it, usually something inspiring or motivating. Sometimes the quotes are from famous people, other times it’s anonymous. Some of my art work contains just one word—like LOVE or LIVE or SUNSHINE. I paint the canvas and add mixed media pieces to give it dimension and depth.
It started out as a hobby based on my love of inspirational quotes, but Park encouraged me to sell my artwork on line. So far this week, my online shop has sold six canvases. Now, make that seven. I smile and get back to studying.
I’m standing behind the counter at work, pouring over my stupid college history textbook when the big glass doors slide open. In comes Bayleigh, lugging what looks like a super heavy baby carrier on one arm, Jett knocking around inside of it with every step she takes. In her other hand, she balances two Taco Bell bags, two drinks in the crook of her elbow, and her cell phone. The lanyard that holds her car keys is fitted between her teeth. She smiles at me in this crazed, over-worked mom kind of way.
I rush forward and grab the baby carrier, making goo goo faces at the baby as I relieve her of its weight, and I set it on top of the counter, right in the middle so there’s no chance baby Jett will fall off.
Bayleigh looks amazing. After a few months of depression from being stuck at home all day, she had decided to do something about it. Now she fixes her hair and gets fully dressed each morning, saying it helps her feel like she has purpose. It’s good to see her happy again. I know she stresses about not having an official job, but as her husband and I always tell her, taking care of the baby is a super important job.
“I know you said you’re too busy to go out for lunch,” she says, hoisting the Taco Bell bags onto the counter and handing me a drink from her elbow. “But you didn’t say anything about staying in for lunch, so I took some liberties and brought it to you.”
“Thanks,” I say, opening the bags and setting out their contents on the counter. Bayleigh and I eat Taco Bell in what we call Family Style—meaning we order a crap ton of food and randomly eat parts of all of it at once. “I only brought a Pop-tart for lunch so this is kind of awesome.”
Baby Jett watches us intently as we start in on our food and I feel bad that he can’t have any. Bayleigh gets some melted cheese on her finger and holds it out to Jett, who eagerly licks it, only to make a sour face.
“So when are you going to spill it?” I ask, eyeing her suspiciously over my crunch taco.
“Spill what?” She bats her eyelashes at me. “Can’t a girl just come hang out with her best friend without having any other motives of wanting to know all the juicy details about why her best friend’s boyfriend just totally moved down here from California?”
I laugh and throw a nacho chip at her, which she catches and promptly eats. “I don’t really know what to say about Park. I mean, it’s exciting but it’s scary, you know?”
She considers this a moment and then shakes her head. “How is it scary? It’s awesome. I was psyched when Jace moved down here.”
“Yeah but Jace already had ties to this state because he inherited his grandfather’s house down here. Plus, he’s like crazy in love with you.”
“Park is crazy in love with you,” she retorts. “And he has ties with you and his best friend, who happens to be my husband, who happens to live in Texas.”
I take a bite of a burrito. “Still scary.”
“No, what would be scary is if Park had asked you to move to California and then I’d have lost my best friend. I’m a very needy person,” she says with a smile. “I can’t have you moving across the country, you know.”
“Don’t worry, that won’t happen.” My phone beeps to signal a new text message. I lean over and see Park’s name light up on the screen. Without reading it, I slide the phone back toward the work computer and continue eating.
Bayleigh lifts an eyebrow. “Oh my God, are you thinking of breaking up with Park?”
“What? No.” My reply is quick. Too quick. Her eyes go wide and she grabs my arm. “Becca. You can’t lie to me.”
I shrug. “I’m not lying. I mean, I don’t know.”
Wow. That’s the first time I’ve admitted it both out loud and to myself. When it comes to my relationship with Park, I really don’t know. I mean, sure we had fun this past weekend but things were weird. An awkward nagging feeling tugged at me during the time we were hanging out, and I think he felt it too. It was like ever since the moment he bought that house, things have been different for us.
That doesn’t mean I don’t love him. I do, I just…
I glance up from my thoughts and find Bayleigh giving me a deadpan stare. “What’s going on? You can tell me, you know. I won’t tell Jace.”
Now it’s time to admit something I really haven’t been allowing myself to think. I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m worth it. He’s given up so much of his life for me, to be here and to be with me, and I just can’t stop feeling like it’s all a huge mistake on his part. I mean…look at me.”
The ten seconds of silence that follows my monologue makes my heart leap into my throat. Bayleigh isn’t immediately saying anything reassuring. She’s not doing her best friend duty to tell me what I want to hear. She’s just…watching me. Finally, her smile contorts into something resembling pity.
“Honey, you need to talk to him.”
“I will,” I say. “We’re just eating lunch right now so I’ll text him back when we’re done.”
“No, I don’t mean that.” Funny how ever since Bayleigh became a mom, her I’m Serious And You Better Listen to Me face has become honed to Oscar-worthy perfection. “I mean you need to sit down with him and have a talk about everything. About why he moved here and your future together and all of that. If you don’t think you’re good enough for him, then he needs to assure
you that you are.”
“And what if he doesn’t?” I say. “What if he can’t assure me of anything?”
“He wouldn’t have moved here if you weren’t good enough for him.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe he moved down here for another reason and I’m just his girlfriend until he figures out what he wants to do with his life.”
Bayleigh grabs my half-eaten burrito and takes a huge bite. “Talk to him.”
I draw in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, bringing my forehead all the way down to rest on top of my open history book. “You’re right,” I say into the pages. “I’ll talk to him.”
Chapter 4
I don’t talk to him. For three days, I manage to avoid any serious conversations with Park and stick to just basic hello, goodnight, see ya later texts. It turns out that all of my studying for the history midterm did absolutely nothing for me, because instead of facts and figures and dates, the entire midterm was a two hundred question vocabulary test. Luckily, about half of the class also failed it and our instructor is allowing a retake to make up half of the points we missed. He had said we were lucky this was only “community college” because “real college” doesn’t work that way.
Seriously, screw that guy.
But now that I have a reason to lock myself up in my room for a few days and study some more, I use it to my full advantage and make it my excuse for avoiding Park.
And I hate that I’m doing this. Park. MY Park. The gorgeous, sweet, super freaking hot guy who I am currently dating and up until a few weeks ago, would have never believed that I’d avoid him like this. Things change though, and you can never underestimate the power of a guilty conscious.
Around five in the afternoon, I get a text from Park. Although I’m lying on my back on my bed, propped up by a bunch of pillows with my open notebook of vocabulary words in my lap, I’ve been accidently watching Netflix for the last hour.